Scenes from an unwritten story 2
by vanhunks
Summary: JC : A blizzard. A cave. A dying fire. Two broken humans. Help me make it through the night. This time from Kathryn's POV.


Title: Scenes from an unwritten story (2) Sequel Author: vanhunks  
  
Contact: vanhunks @yahoo.com  
  
Web page:   
  
Series: VOY  
  
Part: New 1/1  
  
Rating: [PG-13]  
  
Codes: J/C  
  
Disclaimer: Star Trek Voyager and all of its characters are the property of Paramount. No copyright infringement is intended.  
  
Summary: A blizzard. A cave. A dying fire. Two broken humans. Help me make it through the night. This time, from Kathryn's POV. Warning: Deep angst, but there's light at the end of the tunnel; a satisfactory ending.  
  
SCENES FROM AN UNWRITTEN STORY (2)  
  
Her mind was numb. Numb from the cold and numb from the pain... She tried to close herself off from seeing their faces - ugly, snarling, grunting faces. The images kept coming. Although her eyes were closed, she could see them fighting, tearing in sickly, naked aggression at her clothes, her hair, her breasts. Somehow she felt displaced, lifted to a plain where she could watch with detachment the body that was hers, yet not hers and the men who took turns to ravage it. The assault was too extreme to feel anything anymore, to scream or weep. So shock, the first merciful release that would protect her from feeling or being too aware of the horrific reality, set in.  
  
Somewhere, Chakotay was beaten to death. She had seen the first blows strike him even as she was pulled from the cave. She had heard him scream her name, the echo of it following her where she was led away. Fighting back... What was that against the overpowering might of men who were already blinded by their own instinct to plunder her body?  
  
Now, she lay close to him. She didn't know when they had brought her back to the cave or why they didn't just kill her. Too weak to move, too sick and paralysed, she had lain in the cold. Only from a great distance could she hear the howling of the wind, as if it cried with terrible grief the tears that should have come from her.  
  
She had woken dazedly to the sensation that someone was pulling her up. A small cry escaped her, then Chakotay's voice...deep, calm, with only a tinge of anger that made her sag against him. She had not spoken again, and allowed him to dress her. Once, in the light of the fire, as he pulled the turtleneck over her, she had seen his eyes.  
  
Look away, Kathryn... Look away from his compassion...  
  
Understanding was in the gentleness of his touch, his hands on her body as he pulled on her clothes with the greatest care. Flashes of other hands on her body, pulling and tearing, invading, came to her, made her give shamed little cries. But Chakotay's soft "shhh..." was enough to settle her again, even if only briefly.  
  
She was cold, had been unclothed all through her ordeal. Her face sought his body warmth, nuzzling against his chest even though she knew he hurt from the pressure.  
  
"Will they come?" she had asked. Maybe she asked that more than once...many times. She couldn't remember. She was dazed, her body hurting so much that crying out was a luxury, because it hurt even more. So she tried to settle into a comfortable position where she didn't have to move much. Still, she shivered at times uncontrollably against Chakotay's hard, reassuring body.  
  
"It's cold," she said.  
  
Later, "They were animals..."  
  
Chakotay's voice above the howl of the wind, "I will make you whole again."  
  
Did she doze off? Did she fall into a nightmare-filled slumber?  
  
"Here," he whispered, gently pressing her down next to the dying embers. She had cried out, the movement causing pain and discomfort. But it was only briefly, for she felt how he cursed himself for causing her more pain than was necessary. He struggled with her limp body. She knew she wasn't helping much, but Chakotay didn't mind. Her had pressed something against her stomach, for she had given a little whimper from the brief assault of cold air. But very soon it was over and she gave a little moan. Why did he dress her again? she wondered, too disoriented and dazed to wonder. Her face relaxed against his chest again. She welcomed the cosiness of the new warmth and his skin, drifted gently into slumber.  
  
Then they came. The men whose faces were wild and savage as they started tearing, breaking. Violent, rough hands and long teeth that found their marks, left their marks. Invasion crude and bestial.  
  
No more crying there...  
  
"No more...no more..." But the men kept coming. Chakotay's voice above the howling wind and the screams of the men.  
  
"Shhh... I'm here, Kathryn..."  
  
Still, they came. Long nails dug into soft skin and tore at her flesh. Heaving bodies. Their laughs grating, untamed, their tongues alien.  
  
Pain. Pain. Pain. Sudden release as one is pulled out of her body, long past protest. Another body falling on her in brutal entry. A lone, unnoticed, ignored sob...maybe a tear...  
  
Only in her dream could she protest. Only in her dream she could fight her attackers, ward them off with her hands...  
  
"Please...stop..."  
  
"I'm here, Kathryn. Just listen to my voice. Shhh..."  
  
His voice, urgent yet calm...beloved voice. The images receded. The ugly laughing went away slowly. She slumped against him in blessed reassurance.  
  
"C-Chakotay?"  
  
"No...I will not hurt you, Kathryn; I will never hurt you."  
  
Why were her cheeks so wet? Did she weep? At last? She must have, because the sounds of sobbing she heard were her own. She heard Chakotay's sobbing. Their tears mingled. She cried a long time. Arms enfolded her, holding her so close.  
  
Warm...  
  
Warm.  
  
Did she fall asleep again? Yet, there were no images of wild, untamed faces this time. She was cocooned in warmth, a strange warmth.  
  
They were lying down, her body spooned to Chakotay. It felt good, this warmth, but why were they lying down? She remembered sitting up and being held by him.  
  
"Chakotay...?"  
  
He didn't move. The wind had stopped. It was freezing cold, but her hands were warm, for they were tucked under the layers of clothing. It was quiet. Chakotay's body remained lifeless.  
  
"Chakotay?"  
  
She raised herself on her elbow to peer at him in the darkness. She couldn't see his face, only a dark outline of his rigid body.  
  
Touch his face.  
  
Touch his hands.  
  
Touch his chest.  
  
Ice cold. Stiff. Naked. Cold. Cold. Hands too terrified to learn a new truth skimmed over his bare torso, felt the rim of his boxers. New cold. Her heart tightened painfully at the knowledge of a new and terrible reality. The maelstrom spun madly, madly, until it stopped.  
  
"Chakotay! Wake up. Come back...come back to me..."  
  
Desperate hands slapping the cold, prone, unmoving man. Fear.  
  
"You can't go... You can't leave me now, Chakotay..."  
  
Did the tears spring to her eyes again?  
  
She thought absently of rain in Indiana, of Chakotay standing in the rain and his face breaking into laughter. Why did it feel like rain? Then she felt for the first time his turtleneck over hers, his jacket over her jacket, trousers over hers. Her hands beat on his body, willing him to wake up. She heard noises in the distance, noises than became louder. Then guttural laughter.  
  
They were coming.  
  
"God, help me!" she cried into the darkness as she hit the commbadge.  
  
Then, disembodied, she heard, "Voyager to Janeway."  
  
She gasped, swallowed a sob. Did God play tricks with her? Did her hand hit the commbadge again in the incredulous belief that Voyager had come for them at last?  
  
"Janeway to Voyager."  
  
"Voyager here, Captain."  
  
The EMH...  
  
"Doctor, beam us directly to sickbay. Attend to Commander Chakotay first..."  
  
Then she collapsed, not feeling the slight displacement as they were beamed to Voyager's sickbay.  
  
*  
  
Sickbay...  
  
She raised herself to a sitting position on the biobed, ignoring the doctor's order to stay in bed. Her body was repaired. Outwardly, at least, she could function again. The numbness was gone, and in its place was a tired acceptance that her life had changed forever. She could deal with that, learn to live with what happened to her. She had no idea how long it would take, but her resilience to repair her mind as well as her body was already in progress.  
  
It was necessary. If she were to run her vessel, her crew, though knowing of her ordeal, still needed to see a captain who could run Voyager as effectively and as disciplined as she had always done. It would never leave her, the things that happened. There was no shame, for the eyes of her crew were fixed on her with compassion. She didn't see pity in their eyes. Perhaps the one thing she did see, was their own recovery from shock, a quiet emergence from the cauldron of terror their captain and first officer had been thrown in. If anything, they experienced guilt. Guilt that Voyager had been ambushed, sent on a wild goose chase, its Captain and First Officer in a shuttle on their way to a planet that had sent out distress signals. Guilt at what they discovered had happened to their command team. Yes, the crew suffered too, but their recovery from the ordeal was also only dependant upon her own. Their glances she would bear, because she would see their concern, more than anything else.  
  
They took their lead from her. She had not been more proud of them than in the last few days they had hesitantly stepped up to her bed and greeted her. She had been awake, not too tired to listen to them, hear their halting expressions of commiseration. The EMH had tried to shoo them out of sickbay, but she had gripped his hand tightly and told him firmly that she needed them, for their presence marked something sane and immediate and blessedly real. And though she couldn't speak to any of them about the details of what happened, they hadn't needed to hear it, for they had imaginations and portents of the horror of such events.  
  
She had cried once. The crewman had looked at her with his doe-like liquid brown eyes that always made her think he was perpetually sad. He had looked at her a very long time, and when his eyes filled with tears and rolled unchecked down his cheeks, she had taken his hand in hers and wept with him.  
  
One day, when she felt ready, she would tell Noah Lessing how his tears helped to heal her.  
  
She would have nightmares; she would relive the terror again and again and again. There would be times that the terror would corrode her resolve, eat away at her defences, mock at the manner of regeneration of heart, body and soul. Those times she knew, the crew would understand.  
  
Kathryn wrapped her arms round her, the softness of the hospital gown welcome and warm. When she braced herself to get off the bed, the EMH clucked like a mother hen the moment she stumbled.  
  
"Now, Captain, you've not adjusted to life off the bed You've been here - "  
  
"I know, Doctor. Four days and three nights. Long enough. I'm drunk from too much sleep."  
  
"It was so your body could regenerate in peace."  
  
"I'm feeling much better, Doctor."  
  
"Captain! You need the rest. I can't tell you - "  
  
"Don't worry. I'll feel better resting in the comfort of my quarters. You can post Tuvok at my door to make sure I take my rest and my medicine."  
  
The EMH shadowed her elbow closely as she walked across the floor to the other side of the sickbay. She stopped next to the main biobed. Her eyes went soft as she looked at the sleeping man. His colour was so much better. When they had been beamed back, his body was blue and stiff. She had been frantic with worry the moment she had opened her eyes in sickbay.  
  
Her first concern had been for Chakotay and her own injuries shifted to the background as she became frantic because she thought he was dead. There was a cold deep inside her, colder than the blizzard and the horror on the planet.  
  
Cold fear that terrified her more than her ordeal...  
  
Chakotay was dead.  
  
"Help him, Doctor."  
  
She had resisted Tom Paris, fighting ineffectually to stay near Chakotay. But Tom had simply lifted her in his arms and laid her down on the bed at the far side. He had given her a sedative, and her body relaxed slowly, became limp.  
  
"He's still alive..." she heard the doctor say.  
  
She closed her eyes at that discovery.  
  
"His life signs are faint," she heard their voices as they stabilised Chakotay. Then everything faded to darkness.  
  
Now, Chakotay lay sleeping.  
  
She caressed his warm cheek. Was there a sigh that escaped him? He must have sensed her touch. She let her hands run over his shoulder, tracing the outline of his collarbone. She remembered the doctor's words as he gave her a report of Chakotay's injuries.  
  
"Five broken ribs, and a broken collarbone, Captain. Did you know his leg was fractured? I've repaired his broken teeth, reset and repaired the cracked jaw. His upper cheekbone was shattered. Did you notice that blood seeped from his eyes? He has sustained some concussion.."  
  
How then had he managed to stand at the mouth of the cave and try constantly to hail Voyager? How had he managed to cradle her body against him? She had had no idea of the extent of Chakotay's injuries, primarily because he had not told her of it. She had been mostly semi-conscious those first hours, but they had talked, soft, fragmented conversations. It was enough for her to have been made aware that he was struggling to breathe, that her movements against him caused him excruciating pain too.  
  
He had not only kept her warm with a fire...  
  
"Oh, Chakotay..."  
  
She thought he heard her. She could see the movement of his eyes under the closed lids. Her heart thundered. He was about to wake up. His eyelids were heavy, but they lifted slowly until his eyes were open. He lay staring at the ceiling, the source of the bright light.  
  
What went through his mind, staring so long at the ceiling like that? His lips moved, but no sound issued from them. Finally, the silent prayer stopped. Chakotay turned slowly until his gaze connected with hers.  
  
In his eyes she saw their last hours on that planet. She saw how he fought to defend her. She saw their bodies lying spooned, hers warm, his ice-cold. She saw Chakotay drifting from her. Strange how she could also see herself desperately calling his name.  
  
Kathryn had hardly noticed that the EMH had lowered the dome and moved away again silently. Chakotay's hand sought hers instinctively and found refuge. His lips moved.  
  
"I saw my father..."  
  
"I was afraid to be alone."  
  
"But I heard you call my name and I knew I was not ready for my father's home."  
  
It was quiet again; her heart was filled with the import of his words. She squeezed his hand.  
  
"You saved my life," she said softly. He wanted to shake his head, look away, but her hands had steadied his head, imploring him to look at her. "I wore two turtlenecks, and two pairs of uniforms - mine and yours... You kept me alive."  
  
"Alive..."  
  
Chakotay, agitated, tried to raise himself, and when she helped him up he fell against her and wept again. It made her own eyes well with tears.  
  
She knew that there would be times during the rest of their journey home that they were going to take turns comforting one another. Now was Chakotay's moment. He clung to her, his frame shuddering. No words were needed to express her understanding. She had seen the eyes of the crew. They too had the same look. She held his head to her bosom, pressed her lips into his hair. She knew that soon, when the nightmares came for her, she would turn in her bed, her hands reaching for him.  
  
He would be there. He would always be there.  
  
When Chakotay finally calmed, there was a great silence in the sickbay. She pressed him gently back on the bed. He wouldn't let go of her hand.  
  
"We're in this together, Chakotay. It is inevitable. You're going to need me and I'm going to need you..."  
  
Her words hung in the air. She hoped he understood. He lifted her hand and pressed his lips against the back of it.  
  
"You called me back. I shall gladly walk this road with you. We didn't choose it, Kathryn, but if you want me there always - "  
  
"But didn't you know, Chakotay, when you held me and kept me warm and clothed me with your clothes..." Her heart was full. She closed her eyes, absorbing the new truth. A hand reached up and fingers touched her cheek. Her eyes flew open.  
  
"Kathryn?"  
  
"Didn't you know, Chakotay? Didn't you know?"  
  
"Know what?"  
  
"My life belongs to you. Forever."  
  
****  
  
END 


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